


The Suit

by Demerite



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint doesn't want to wear the stupid suit, right up until he really, really does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Suit

“You have to wear it.” Natasha said, giving Clint a look that would make lesser men tremble and spill their darkest secrets. But Clint was used to her doing this, and just rolled his eyes at her. 

“I do not.” he replied, perhaps a little petulantly, folding his arms. 

“Everyone else is.” Natasha stepped into her high heels, smiling, “Cap’s expecting you to do it. You know what his disappointed face is like.” 

Clint sighed heavily, “I hate suits.” he muttered darkly, “Suits are not my department.” 

“Liar,” Natasha looked up from where she was strapping a knife to her thigh under the skirts of her long dress, “I’ve seen the way you stare at Coulson’s ass when you think no-one’s looking.”

“That- That doesn’t count!” Clint sputtered indignantly, blushing bright red. He wasn’t that obvious, was he? Or maybe it was just Natasha. Either way, damn it! Fuming, Clint donned the suit, and let Natasha straighten his tie. She finally gave up on making it look neat and completely retied it. 

“How don’t you know how to do this, Barton?” she teased, tightening the knot expertly. Clint didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Clint trailed her to the door, feeling petulant and highly miserable. Avengers PR events, eugh! He’d prefer shooting terrorists any day. 

***

Oddly enough, Clint got his wish when the event was attacked by HYDRA. they’d gotten all the civilians out easily enough, but the fight itself had been brutal. 

With the Avengers tower undoubtedly under HYDRA surveillance, they regrouped at a SHIELD safehouse. Exhausted, battered and for the most part thoroughly annoyed, the safehosue was still a far more welcoming prospect that spending the night anywhere else that was available to them. 

Coulson met them there, but he took one look at the team and told them that honestly, debrief could wait until the next morning. 

“I could kiss you.” Tony mumbled in Coulson’s direction as he limped towards a bedroom, leaning heavily on Steve, “Except Legolas would shoot me if I-” Steve had placed a hand over Tony’s mouth to shut him up. 

“Sorry Sir,” he muttered, leading Tony away, “I’ll see to him.” 

“You do that,” Clint snarked, just to see the way the back of Steve’ neck went red. Natasha punched him with the arm that wasn’t resting in a sling. She had an impressive rip in the side of her dress, and blood in her hair - not hers, Clint was sure of that. She still her a hold of her knife from the start of the night. 

“Come on boys,” Natasha slapped Thor on the shoulder and nudged Bruce’s ankle with a foot, “Time for bed.”

 

The two men followed her down the hall, towards the various bedrooms that the safehouse provided and suddenly Clint and Coulson were left alone together.

They painted an odd picture, Clint thought idly, toying with the tip of an arrow. Coulson was wearing one of his usual suits, everything in pressed, perfect order. Clint, on the other hand, was a mess. He’d lost his jacket somewhere back there, and his sleeves were pushed up above his elbows exposing a neat line of red welts up his wrist from the bowstring - teach him to lose his wrist-guard in the chaos! His tie was also gone, and he’d undone the first button so he could move a little easier. His hair was dishevelled and he had a small cut above his left eye. 

“Ow.” clint muttered indignantly when Coulson pinned him against the nearest wall and kissed him. Hard, violently in every way he just had to know Clint needed. Clint kissed back just as roughly, letting all the adrenaline from the fight in, kissing Coulson until he wasn’t thinking about the battle, wasn’t thinking about the civilians he could have not saved, the lives that had been at risk, was only thinking about those lips against his and nothing else. 

Finally, they parted, breathing heavily and leaning against one another. Clint felt a little dizzy, although he’d never admit to it. It must be the adrenaline, he told himself, attempting and failing to disguise a yawn. Coulson smiled, a real, warm smile, not the slightly amused quirk of the lips usually seen. 

“Bed?” he offered, and Clint nodded. 

They both knew that there was only one more bed left in the safehouse. Neither of them minded.


End file.
